Pencroft searched in his waistcoat for the box, which was always there,
for he was a confirmed smoker. He could not find it; he rummaged the
pockets of his trousers, but, to his horror, he could nowhere discover the
box.

"Here's a go!" said he, looking at Herbert. "The box must have fallen out
of my pocket and got lost! Surely, Herbert, you must have something--a
tinder-box--anything that can possibly make fire!"

"No, I haven't, Pencroft."

The sailor rushed out, followed by the boy. On the sand, among the rocks,
near the river's bank, they both searched carefully, but in vain. The box
was of copper, and therefore would have been easily seen.

"Pencroft," asked Herbert, "didn't you throw it out of the car?"

"I knew better than that," replied the sailor; "but such a small article
could easily disappear in the tumbling about we have gone through. I would
rather even have lost my pipe! Confound the box! Where can it be?"

"Look here, the tide is going down," said Herbert; "let's run to the
place where we landed."

It was scarcely probable that they would find the box, which the waves
had rolled about among the pebbles, at high tide, but it was as well to
try. Herbert and Pencroft walked rapidly to the point where they had landed
the day before, about two hundred feet from the cave. They hunted there,
among the shingle, in the clefts of the rocks, but found nothing. If the
box had fallen at this place it must have been swept away by the waves. As
the sea went down, they searched every little crevice with no result. It
was a grave loss in their circumstances, and for the time irreparable.
Pencroft could not hide his vexation; he looked very anxious, but said not
a word. Herbert tried to console him by observing, that if they had found
the matches, they would, very likely, have been wetted by the sea and
useless.

"No, my boy," replied the sailor; "they were in a copper box which shut
very tightly; and now what are we to do?"

"We shall certainly find some way of making a fire," said Herbert.
"Captain Harding or Mr. Spilett will not be without them."

"Yes," replied Pencroft; "but in the meantime we are without fire, and
our companions will find but a sorry repast on their return."

"But," said Herbert quickly, "do you think it possible that they have no
tinder or matches?"

"I doubt it," replied the sailor, shaking his head, "for neither Neb nor
Captain Harding smoke, and I believe that Mr. Spilett would rather keep his
note-book than his match-box."

Herbert did not reply. The loss of the box was certainly to be regretted,
but the boy was still sure of procuring fire in some way or other.
Pencroft, more experienced, did not think so, although he was not a man to
trouble himself about a small or great grievance. At any rate, there was
only one thing to be done--to await the return of Neb and the reporter; but
they must give up the feast of hard eggs which they had meant to prepare,
and a meal of raw flesh was not an agreeable prospect either for themselves
or for the others.

Before returning to the cave, the sailor and Herbert, in the event of
fire being positively unattainable, collected some more shell-fish, and
then silently retraced their steps to their dwelling.

Pencroft, his eyes fixed on the ground, still looked for his box. He even
climbed up the left bank of the river from its mouth to the angle where the
raft had been moored. He returned to the plateau, went over it in every
direction, searched among the high grass on the border of the forest, all
in vain.

It was five in the evening when he and Herbert re-entered the cave. It is
useless to say that the darkest corners of the passages were ransacked
before they were obliged to give it up in despair. Towards six o'clock,
when the sun was disappearing behind the high lands of the west, Herbert,
who was walking up and down on the strand, signalized the return of Neb and
Spilett.

They were returning alone! . . . . The boy's heart sank; the sailor had not
been deceived in his forebodings; the engineer, Cyrus Harding, had not been
found!

The reporter, on his arrival, sat down on a rock, without saying
anything.